Times of Madness, Sanity of Times Options

[LadySaira]

As a bit of fun I'm doing a little ditty, bityy. A story, mind you. On all of our favorite Daedric Princes! Or Princess. Never really sure on that bit, eh? Well. Should get on with it. Over with it, no, no. On with it was right.

Cheese and Crumpets!

In the happy land of Mania, well, it really isn't all that happy, but that's aside the point! In the land of Mania, then, there was an artist. A mad aritst, mind you, a commonality in the Ilses... or is it? No matter. He was one of many, or few if it was a Sundas, but he had a problem. This problem was quite a serious one, especially with him being a mad artist, in the lands of Sheogorath. He had no insperation! The calamity! The horror! The cheese! No, not the last one, silly. He had painted day in and day out, the former more difficult than the latter as it's harder to paint a dawn than to erase it, but then he stopped. He didn't have an idea in the lands of ideas, oddities and new things. And old things. And the things inbetween.

Now, truth be told, he had started a painting and that was the real trouble. He didn't know how to finish it! Imagine that, not knowing the end of something you started, or the start of something you ended. Like an age! Anyway. He had the most beautful sunset painted, blue, gold, pink, green sparkles. Giant mushrooms of flesh and blackened claws, bright forest and bright little animals dotting the landscape, but in the forefront was a cliff, a cliff that was supposed to have someone standing there. Two someones. A dark elf in a bright green robe, himself, and someone else. There was a perfect hole just where the person was supposed to stand, but who would it be?

He left the city. Or did he enter the forest? Or did he leave the forest and enter the city? Either way, there were trees. Pretty trees, not the old greying bark and green leaves, trees of sparkling red wood and emerald leaves. He walked down a path paved with pretty yellow planks of stone. What are they called? Ah, yes. Bricks. Cooblestones you say? No, no. It was sand. Yes, a nice sandy trail. So he followed this trail along, seeing many mystical creatures, but none inspired him! So he continued to climb a tall, tall hilll. A mountain, even. So he climbed the mountian. Why? Who cares! Well. You care. Else you wouldn't have asked! You didn't? Oh dear. Regardless, he climbed the mountian. It was a nice climb up the mountian very windy, or so I'm told. Wait no, I wasn't told, but it was quite breezy.

So he reached the top of the mountian, and he was happy that the climb was done. For it was a very long climb and the sun was just setting, when another person, a Khajit, no less, clambered up the other side of the hill. "You've just finished my idea!" He exclaimed, or maybe just said loudly. "No, your the finish to my painting!" The Khajit said angrily, or maybe loudly as well. Just then a piece of cheese fell into the Dunmer's hands. The Khajit was less lucky, the cheese had hit him on the head. "No!" Said a quiet voice, though it was very loud as well. Quite happy, too if I say so myself, for it was Shegorath, whose painting they had both finished! Well, my painting too. But we don't talk about that.

[LadySaira]

One too many left turns.

Now in the dreary, or drearier than Mania, lands of Dementia there was a Khajitii girl who was very young. She's old now. Care? Didn't think so. So, this girl thought she was in love. Oh joy. So she consulted the oldest woman in her village, who was quite obviously a dog. You could tell by her golden skin, long white hair and the way she meowed at everything that went by. That is a dog. No. Your opinion doesn't count. The point is, the eldest woman suggested cutting out the boy's heart, just to check if she really did love him. This is quite the reasonable idea, but the girl thought differently, so the dog tried to beat her about the head with an onion and sent her out into the cold, soft, white rain.

Now, she had the audacity to think that the village counciller, a man who thought he was a knight, what madness, would have a better idea. He thought that she should sleep in the same bed as the boy, to see if he was loving of her too. But then the 'knight' had another thought, and chased her out into the rain with an onion, too. The girl had thought long and hard about it the next day, in fact she thought about it long enough, that an apple had rolled off the roof above and nearly killed a little creeping man who believed that the flowers were trying to pick his pockets. Which of course they were, the fool. She decided that the knight had the better plan.

So off she went to his house, and they snuggled in on his bed, which was near an open fireplace that let the cold air in. But she was warm in her nice fur, it was such a magnificent tone after all. So he left the room for a moment to do cat things, like any cat should. When he came back, the old woman's thoughts drifted into her mind. Blew into her mind more like. That skull of her's is like a brick wall. So with a little encouragement from the whispering wind, she cut open his chest with an onion and took out his heart. It was a good heart. Quite tasty when she served it to me. I do so very much hope little Saira stays in the palace. Dancing will be fun. She better hope it's fun, or I'll have a nice rug.



Yup, finally decided to come back with another installation of madness.